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Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Porkchop and guns

I have embraced the online dating world. I am trying not to rush to judgment. But it is so very hard not to mock men who write in their profile that their favorite thing to do is take long walks in the fall, holding hands, leaves crunching beneath your feet and stealing kisses. Really? When the hell are you doing this? Because in the real world I am cursing as I rake those damn leaves and bag them, before I rush to one of two soccer games and prepare dinner. And I try not to send an evil email to the men who insist their new loves must not be judgmental or opinionated. So basically they just want we to agree with whatever they say. That's enticing. But I will persevere. And when I last left you, waiting with anxious anticipation, I was about to go on my first Match.com date. And I did.

So we agreed to meet at a mutual location. There are all sorts of dating rules about online dating. You need to call someone when you leave for your date. Then again you call them when you are headed home and then you call them when you get home. This is to assure yourself that you have not just had a date with a serial killer who has followed you home to bludgeon you to death in your driveway. Sounds fun, doesn't it?

As usual I am fifteen minutes late. Anyone who knows me, knows this to be a truth in my life. But he patiently waits. I arrive and there he is, or is that him? It is hard to tell because he is at least 30 pounds heavier than his Match.com photo. Is that fair? I am not that particular about weight or hair but I think honesty is important. If you have gained weight, put a new photo up and don't describe yourself as 'athletic and toned'. Eventually you are going to be seen and these lies will come back to haunt you. He is a gentleman, standing to pull out my chair and ordering for me. Hmmmmm.....maybe I can look past the two chins. But then he starts talking about his life.

He decides that in order to woo me he will tell me a story about how he spends Christmas Eve with his kids. I am sure this will be an adorable story about a father spending quality time with his kids. Oh, how wrong I am. He tells me he starts Christmas Eve by making a roaring fire in the fireplace so there is no way Santa will attempt to come down the chimney. Then just to make sure, he takes out his guns (yes, guns) and places them in his lap as he sits on the couch making sure Santa doesn't use a fire extinguisher and still make an attempt to enter the home. He then tells his impressionable children that he will make sure that Jolly Fat man never comes in the house. After telling me this story he laughs uproariously. I want to as him how much he has spent on psychologists for his kids but I restrain myself.

The evening only gets better from there. I make a decision to have a second drink and then spend the rest of the time together talking about myself. Because honestly I am way more interesting than this guy. He tells me three times that he is an intellectual. I don't think he knows what the word means. He talks about living in Alabama and I have readied myself for him to say something racially awful. Luckily he skirts the issue by talking about the poor people there and how he tried to avoid them. Oh he is just such a catch. Then he tells me that 'Armageddon' was one of his favorite movies. Check Please.

Just as we get the check his cell phone rings. It is his son, PorkChop. He calls his son Porkchop. It is not an endearing nickname, I think it is his actual name. I think his birth certificate says Porkchop on it. Porkchop is at his girlfriends house and needs a ride home. My cue. I tell him he needs to go help his son and I race for my car. He points out his truck and I am relieved to see there is no gun rack or Confederate Flag on it. I hop in my car quickly, avoiding the awkward 'I am never going to kiss you' moment. He says he would like to see me again. I smile and pretend I can't speak English. And I am off. I call my friend to tell her I am on my way home.

So this time didn't work. I am sure there is a man for me on Match.com. How could there not be? There are millions of subscribers, right? So I go back on and suddenly there is an instant message from a man. Well, a boy. He is 30 years old, thinks I am sexy and wants to meet me. I laugh and tell him he is a little young for me. But wait, he doesn't want a relationship, he wants to meet me now, Saturday night at 9:30pm and have sex. He suggests that I leave my house and we meet outside and if I like what I see, we can get down to business. Are you kidding me? I am desperate but nowhere near that desperate.

And then the phone rings. The caller ID on the phone is a number I haven't seen in so long. It makes me smile. It is Bob, my high school obsession who has only recently refriended me on FaceBook. He is actually calling. Calling me. I should get a backbone and not answer the phone. I should just say no. But I can't. I am obsessed. I don't think it is a real problem since I know what I am doing. Like smoking. People know it is bad but they do it because they like it and they are obsessed (ok, addicted). I answer the phone. His voice. His voice makes me smile broader. He wants to know if we can get together. YES. I have no pride. Of course we can get together. He will come pick me up for dinner. And he does. He shows up on time. He looks amazing. I put myself as close to him physically as I can. I love him. And then he turns and kisses me. I am in heaven. I don't care about dinner. I don't care about having self respect. I don't. And we do have dinner and it is a lot of fun. And I will probably not hear from him any time soon. And I will obsess and stalk. And I will be ok with it. Because I have a new mission. I will make him mine. I will! Because after all I am 41 and single.